


high on jobi nuts

by meremennen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy and Clarke knows how to kick ass, Bellamy is a cocky and unfairly handsome (what’s new?), Clarke goes undercover, Collection of one shots, F/M, FBI Agent!Clarke, FBI agent!Bellamy, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Neighbors, Pining, Semi-established relationship, also a few canon drabbles posted under this, lots of kissing i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:01:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meremennen/pseuds/meremennen
Summary: A collection of short(er) stories for writing practice. #12: Rome wasn’t built in a day#11: the proof of the pudding is in the eating (canon)#10: “There’s only one bed… ”#9: The Notebook#8: Scruffy (canon)#7: Puppy/Love --------------------------------------------------------------------------





	1. Best-laid plans (of mice and men) often go awry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke invites Bellamy for a study date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rewatching season 1 and there is [ this one scene](http://eskimo-whispers.tumblr.com/post/150677874594/bellarke-unity-day-your-moms-early) in 109 which doesn't leave me alone. I really, really wanted to use that line under different (happier?) circumstances.
> 
> * 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Clarke invited Bellamy for a study date to her home, she didn't think much of it.

They are both taking the same class and, conveniently so, they are both back in the same town for the break.

They've known each other since childhood; starting out as friends, as much as six to fourteen-year-olds can be; turning to frenemies when puberty hit. They reconnected during college and they’ve been, sort of, secretly seeing each other for a few months now.

Their "relationship" started in the midst of a heated argument one night, which led to not entirely innocent kisses in the neglected section of the campus library twenty minutes later. 

In retrospect, she doesn't know what took them so long to get there.

They’ve had  _ this thing  _ going on for a while now (four months, to be precise), which meant a lot of making out in the supply closet first; and leading to secret rendezvous in his room, or hers, when the roommates were not around.  _ It’s all under control _ , she supposes, well,  _ most of the time _ .

In her defense, when she invited Bellamy she did mean a  _ study _ date. As in the purest meaning of the term. They are not really  _ together _ together, more like enjoying each other’s company, still mostly platonic; more like those people who re-connect after a few rocky years and like making out - like a lot.

So when her mother was called in working the night shift the other night - leaving an empty apartment all to Clarke for the night - it just provided the perfect environment to study. Or so she'd thought.

Truth be told, if it weren’t for a Tuesday night, she would have decided for the public library. Tuesdays just meant way too many people with their kids for her liking, when finding a silent corner on the premises was doomed to be impossible. Besides, why to cross half the town when she had an empty apartment on her hands? With a fully stocked fridge and carefully selected snacks (versus the ground floor vending machine), in a five-meter radius, she reasoned.

It just seemed more convenient to stay.

But then she opens the door to the boy with a dusting of freckles splashed across his face, his inky curls falling over his forehead in a beautiful disarray. He also smells amazing, to top it all, a (once irritating now adored) cheeky smile plastered all over his face. He is a sight to look at alright.

She mumbles a silent thanks to heavens that she decided to run a brush through her hair that afternoon, combing it into a loose half top knot; or that she'd picked to wear the green deep V-neck - her only decent (read: clean and comfy) elbow length t-shirt she kept at home for wear. Maybe she’d also thrown on a layer of mascara. Maybe. Just because she was to stay at home she wanted to look nice.

What does it, though, is a glimpse at the faded cut above his lips, as his mouth is twisting up, slow, into a full, toothy grin.

(She’s grown to learn over the years that he had an uncanny ability to pull his smiles. Her favourites are the kind of smiles when she feels her knees go weak at the sight. Which used to be exactly the kind of smiles that she'd found just infuriating before. But that was before.)

And his goddamn arms.

A glimpse. One glimpse is all it takes to grab him by the collar and to tangle her fingers in his shirt, - that goddamn deep blue tee showcasing his well-defined arms; that innocent item of clothing he knows perfectly well  _ how much she likes _ \- pulling him through the door and latching her lips onto his.

He doesn’t look or feel surprised, far from it, because he instantly deepens the kiss, backing her up.  One sneaky hand finds her hips, slamming the door behind him with the other.

They kiss, which feels to be hours, rather than the mere minutes that has actually passed.

They kiss until her back hits the side of the antique mahogany cupboard housing her mother's fancy china.

In the end, it is the rattling sound of the expensive china that makes her slow down and break the kiss.

They are still panting, foreheads pressing together when Bellamy’s chuckles pull her back to reality.

"Hello to you, too," he says, giddy, a little bit still out of breath.

His smile, she recognises belatedly, is one of his true Bellamy smiles, the one reserved only for her; a smile that makes her want to grab him by the side of his neck, pulling him down for a long, searing kiss. Again.

"Shut up and get to work," she breathes against his mouth, sounding desperate even to her. Not that she cares.

"Bossy, " he mutters, but he does get to work, chewing his way down already under the sensitive skin of her ears. 

Soon enough, his hands are back on her like the glue, palms eagerly trailing down her sides, pausing only at the small of her back, pulling her body into his.

+

_ Three hours later _ and they find themselves lying in her bed, warm under the covers, very much naked and equally sated.

They drifted off for a while, tangled up in each other and all that, study be damned.

What wakes her are his fingers trailing up and down her back, soothing, tracing the dips and rises running along her spine. He stops at her hips from time to time to rub a few light circles into her skin. His fingers are slow and determined, affectionate.

It's the lazy times like this when she feels those unspoken words, heavy, however innocent they might be. Nevertheless, she feels them on the tip of her tongue, more often than not lately, and she’s convinced that something silly is dangerously close to bubble out of her. 

In all honesty, it all feels like a dream.

It will come out eventually, she knows. But until then, she has him now, like this.

They are back to the kissing agenda, soon after, and it’s not like she wants to bail on that. She likes kissing him.  

Kissing Bellamy starts like it always does: small and sweet and cautious at first, more like soft, lazy nibbling on the lips, which then blooms into something hot and passionate.

They can truly get lost in each other, it doesn’t matter the act.

By the time she hears Bellamy breathing the words in the crook of her neck, they are fully awake and into it.

She blames it on his sinful lips, which are distracting enough on their own. And then there’s also the way he looks at her: his gaze touches her to the core. So, of course, she doesn't recognise the words at first.

His hands are trailing dangerously high up on her inner thigh when the meaning behind the words actually hit her.

_ Your mom’s early. _

"What?" she asks slowly, coming out of a daze.

"Your mom's early," Bellamy murmurs, louder this time, fanning the words into her skin, as he’s continuing his mission of planting small kisses along her skin. He's kissing down her neck, soft lips leaving a trail of wet and hot on her body, goosebumps rising in its wake.

"WHAT?!" she freezes  suddenly, eyes growing wide in panic.

"Your mom's early-"

"- I heard you the first time," she mumbles, a bit annoyed, yet mostly horrified, already pushing him away.

At last, she hears the entrance door slam shut, keys jiggling down the hall, right before she registers her mother's voice ringing through the closed bedroom door. "Clarke? Honey, are you home?"

Clarke Griffin is nothing if not prepared for all contingencies. So she straightens her back, takes a deep calming breath and whispers (sounding more like a hiss): "Get out."

Bellamy stops in his ministrations, cocking an eyebrow at her as if to say  _ ‘Are you serious? _ ’, instead, he says: "What?" rolling his eyes.

"You heard me," she mumbles. "Get. Out!"

A surprised Bellamy is glaring at her, his eyebrows furrowed into a grim line.

"You can hide under the bed," she teases, fighting a smile.

"What?! No! I'm not hiding -" he protests, pursing his lips.  He’s cut off by Clarke's hands on his mouth in an instant and she's climbing on top of him, practically straddling him.

His hot breath is fanning her skin, she can also feel his tongue darting out, licking her palm, which is just .... besides being several levels of cute is also really distracting.

She groans.

"What I meant is," she starts, carefully lifting her hand and placing them on his shoulders instead. "That you could hide under my bed until I ..."she pauses, tilting her head to the side, eyebrows knotted in a furrow.

_ Until what, Clarke? _ she asks herself, pondering.

"Okay... "she pinches her nose and takes a deep breath, solidifying in her newfound resort.

"Just stay here, okay?"

He nods and she brushes her lips against his before pushing herself up.

"I'll go and talk to her."

So she does what she does best: taking things in a stride.

First, she combs her fingers through her hair, resembling a bird’s nest by now, she’s sure.

Then she grabs the blanket, effectively tugging it off of Bellamy and leaving him naked (very naked and distractingly so) on the bed. She wraps the thin material around her body, taking a deep breath to calm herself, and she storms out of the room without any further hesitance.

Abby is in the hall, hardly standing on her feet. Her eyes wide and tired, silently questioning.

"Mom, before you say anything …” Clarke beats her, “I'm legal and I'm not alone."

She can hear Bellamy's uncontrollable guffaws behind her as she steps into the hall. They will have to talk soon about labels and stuff, and probably, she should introduce him to Abby at some point. Well, very near into the future, within a few hours seems like it.

She shakes her head as if to clear it and turns to Abby, taking a deep breath - steeling herself for whatever it is to come.

Arguing with Bellamy is fine, fairly enjoyable at times, but kissing him is the best. She’s pretty sure that she's going to keep him around.

^^^


	2. She’s a Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellarke + _FBI special agent goes undercover on a beauty pageant_
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~
> 
> "Can you stop fidgeting, Griffin?" the deep voice rings in her head.
> 
> It's her partner/superior on the case, Special Agent Bellamy Blake. One of the most annoying, if not the most annoying agents at the bureau.
> 
> There's also Cage Wallace, but.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt a bit bad for not writing more Bellarke convo into that [ detective!Bellamy](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348800/chapters/19125961) fic the other day, so here you go. A different story but more Bellarke.
> 
> Very (very) loosely based on the movie _Miss Congeniality_ : Female agent goes undercover on a beauty pageant. But that’s about it. I might also add that she’s rather ordinary looking than Sandra Bullock’s run-down character at the beginning of the movie.

Clarke sighs, mentally preparing herself for what is about to come. _Bikini contest_. Again.

She groans internally.

As plans go, this is not one of their worst.

"Can you stop fidgeting, Griffin?" the deep voice rings in her head.

It's her partner/superior on the case, Special Agent Bellamy Blake. One of the most annoying, if not _the_ most annoying agents at the bureau.

There's also Cage Wallace, but.

No one likes to be partnered with Cage; but it was still Special Agent Blake's (Bellamy's) idea to "bribe" her way into the TOP 5 in this ridiculous beauty pageant. Which makes _him_ the actual worst.

She admittedly wore baggy and (some might say) unexciting clothes before. Well, they are not wrong.

Her work clothes are practical for a reason: dark pants or knee-length dark skirts with a white or grey blouse and a suit jacket. It’s professional and she is a professional.

Bikinis? Bikinis are something she does like to wear on a beach, where no one from work is around.

Not to mention that she’s not one of those casually-throwing-on-a-complicated-make-up-in-two-minutes type of girls. On an average day, a natural coloured chapstick and a mascara are all she needs. She wants to be praised by her merits and not by the colour of her lipstick or the cup size of her bra.

She knew how to put on basic foundation or how to apply a blush before. Her last girlfriend has trained her well on the tricks of putting on a perfect winged eyeliner, thank you very much. So what if she prefers to spend those extra ten minutes in the mornings in bed. Everyone needs a beauty sleep, and she likes to enjoy hers longer.

No, this whole undercover job was Bellamy's idea. That cocky, annoyingly handsome … _person._ Including his freckles and soft looking curls, that is.

(Whom she internally calls an _asshole_ on her bad days, and “yeah, he’s one of my friends” on the better ones.)

_Damn him._

If it weren’t for him, she wouldn’t be standing behind the curtain in a flimsy, night-blue bikini. Nevertheless the fact that if it weren’t for him, she’d be collecting dust behind a desk, doing very exciting background “research”.

 _A goddamn bikini_ , she takes a deep, calming breath.

 _It’s all about work,_ she concedes, trying very hard not to think about the inevitable: that she’ll be on national television within a matter of mere minutes. In _something_ that is hardly covering her ass. Or her breasts.

"Clarke," he calls again." Are you listening to me?"

"It's hard not to, considering you're inside of me 24/7", she mutters.

She can hear Monty's snickering and Miller's uncontrolled guffaws by the time her brain catches up with what she's just said.

Her face heats up.

 _Shit_.

A beat later, Bellamy clears his throat. " _Whoa_. That was unexpectedly straightforward from you, Special Agent Griffin." His voice is somewhat croaky, and she can practically see the mental image of his smug face and cocky smile. "If you wanna ask me out, do it like normal people do." And then: “I’m really not that hard to please.”

She rolls her eyes. "That came out wrong,” she says. “You know what I mean,” she adds.

“Ha! I really don’t,” he laughs.

Sometimes she thinks he’s outright flirting with her. Well, if she’s being honest, they do have a little flirtation going on ever since they’ve got over their initial animosity. Then again, maybe -- maybe she’s reading too much into it. (And then there’s also the fact that her previous flirty relationships did not exactly end very well. Being cautious is just smart.)

But then she cannot help thinking that she also knows a few fairly personal things about him. How he calls his sister every Thursday night - more often than not with a frown edged between his eyebrows. Or that he wears exclusively red socks on Fridays. (Nevermind that their dress code clearly states _dark coloured socks_ for agents.)

Clearly, as a form of rebellion, she supposes.

(Not that she cares, but she noticed.)

“Now. Eyes back on the field, head back in the game, Agent Griffin,” his voice suddenly stern.

_Oh right, there are some bad guys to catch._

 

The last thing she remembers before the overexposed stage lights are blinding her is his reassuring voice. It’s gravelly yet low like a whisper, only for her to hear. “Uhm, you look great, by the way.“

Her mouth curves up and into a smile, and she lets herself admit that it is only partly because she is out there, on the centre stage, playing a part.

 

 

Hardly an hour later, after all hell broke lose, her sides are splitting in pain. She’s outside the ceremony centre, breathing heavily - in an attempt to pump some much-needed air into her lungs.

The adrenaline is slowly leaving her body when she finally notices her fellow agents swarming all over the place.

She spots Miller, leading Shumway away before she catches sight of Bellamy running up to her side.

"Next time -" she pants, leaning over Diana Sydney’s body - having her pinned down on the dark Sedan's front hood. She's still pretty winded from the chase.

She’s kicked her heels off somewhere inside the building. So she’s barefoot; the warmth of the asphalt seeping up her legs and into her bones, easing the tense of her muscles on their way. Her hair feels rather messy, tickling against her chin. She doesn't want to think about it even if she’s absolutely sure that the slit running along the side of her dress is now ending provocatively high up on her thighs. She faintly recalls the ripping sound when the delicate fabric tore apart. (Nothing they haven’t seen before. Not really, considering her barely clad runaway performance just a few hours ago.)

"- next time -,” she repeats, a bit still out of breath, “- you'll be the one dressing up and parading around like a Barbie doll, Blake."

Bellamy considers her for a few seconds before his face is splitting into a wide (and remarkably attractive) smile.

"So is that a _yes_ for a date?"

 

+

 

Three weeks later and they are snuggling on her couch. His fingers are drumming along her sides, his warm body a solid presence next to hers.

Life’s been busy, but they did manage to get around that date after all -- exactly twenty minutes ago.

“What do you say, Griffin?” he asks, with a stupid smile playing on his lips. “Wanna do this again?”

She tilts her head, tapping a finger to her lips as if she genuinely needs the time to consider this. Her resolve crumbles the moment he tugs her closer to him, already leaning in.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

 

 

The next day, she orders a 3 pack of red socks with cute little white dots online.

 _Just in case_ , she tells herself, but she already knows her Fridays are not going to be the same.

^^^


	3. Game night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellarke + _that epic quote from 302._
> 
>  
> 
> Bellarke modern AU. I’m sorry in advance, this is so stupid.

Bellamy Blake is not dealing very well with surprises. He doesn’t hate them, per se, but there’s that awkward moment of silence, when he completely freezes, and ... Well, moments like that make him uncomfortable. He’s a master of words after all.

His friends are truly awful sometimes. Or wonderful, it’s a matter of perspective.

 

All in all, he has a pretty good life. He has a good job he actually enjoys, a sister who’s - years later but - finally coming around and a handful of said friends.  

Some might say his life is nothing out of the ordinary, which is true, but he begs to differ. So what if he has a well thought out schedule in place? It's not a crime. He’s worked his ass off to get where he is now, and ... he is happy.

Unlike other people, he likes Mondays. He likes being back in the school (7:15 on the dot) and teaching the kids. It’s not a chore, it's an honour to be part of their lives.

Tuesdays are his least favourite days. It’s laundry day. It's not that he hates doing the laundry, but it's just one of those mundane things that have to be done.

Wednesdays are coffee with Octavia or Clarke. Or lately, with Octavia and Clarke - now that they’ve started speaking to each other again.

His Thursdays are spent late into the afternoon - on occasion into the night - doing after hours activity with the kids. It’s tiring but he wouldn’t change it for anything. Clarke thinks he’s going to have a bunch of kids. (With her? He could have a dozen, but - he cannot exactly tell her that.) So yeah, there’s some truth to that.

Fridays mean drinks with the three musketeers first: Miller, Monty and Murphy. His late Friday nights, though, are reserved for his (possibly) never-ending online series called ‘ _What's wrong with’ …_ , his youtube channel dedicated to revealing blatant inaccuracies broadcasted on TV.

Clarke thinks it's hilarious.

“It’s hilarious,” she spat through a fit of giggles when she finally caught him editing an episode of _‘What’s wrong with… Young Hercules_ ’. (She subscribed the same night. She was teasing him for a week.)

The youtube thing started out of a dare with Miller, but well… his subscription count is pretty decent, growing even, and he’s doing extra money from the ads.

By now, he’s got way too invested in the series, and it's not that easy to stop. (It's good. Temporarily, but it takes his mind off of his stupid crush.)

Saturdays are always a mess yet one of his favourites. He tries to sleep in but then is wide awake just a bit after 8am. So he wakes up, goes for a run. A quick morning shower and a breakfast and he’s ready for the day. See, one of the reasons he’s not doing laundry over the weekend is Clarke. Clarke shows up and they end up spending the day. And they do stuff. Together.

Miller thinks _that_ is hilarious. His exact words were, ‘ _You’re giving me grey hair prematurely, Blake’_ , his tone half teasing, half unimpressed. (He flipped him off.) These days, Miller simply regards him for a moment, arms crossed across his chest. Sometimes he drastically yawns.

(Yeah, it’s not that big of a secret. He's more than a little bit in love with Clarke.)

Which brings us to Sundays.

He supposes normal people spend Sundays with their wife or husband and the kids. He doesn't have a spouse or a girlfriend (he's working on it) let alone a kid (yet), but. His Sundays are reserved for his ragtag family and charades.

+

They are on a recess since Jasper and Maya had to leave early. They've argued for a solid twenty minutes about how to reorganise the teams.

He’s not too happy about the change, his team was winning. Just about, but winning.

The opposing team now consists of Monty, Raven and Miller. So it's him and Clarke against Team Reyes. (The thing is, he was Team Reyes before. But the unspoken rule is, when Raven gets sorted to a team, it's Team Reyes. No debates.)

Clarke being on his team is a first in years. They've tried being on the same team once, before. It lasted for two minutes.

But it's been years, and for what it's worth, they are friends now.

+

Last round. The stakes are high. He’s more anxious by the minute, making sweat prickle along his forehead.

In an attempt to soothe his nerves, Clarke probes him with a joke. Bad move. Bellamy‘s not proud of what comes next.

He finally breaks, raking a hand through his hair. He throws himself back on the couch, hands grasping on his thighs. "We can't lose!" he snaps. “We can’t lose, Clarke!”

It’s quiet for a beat. She cocks an eyebrow at him.

Monty makes a face.

Miller stops mid-movement, already have taken his place in the middle of the living room. Bellamy narrows his eyes at him. He cannot grasp it yet, but something is happening.

Monty is acting weirder than usual. He’s looking forward, way too excited, jovially clapping his hands on his thighs. Clearly on the verge of bursting out.

At last Raven jumps to her feet, biting back on a smile.

"BELLAMY IS IN LOVE WITH CLARKE!!" she shouts.

Time stops.

Bellamy stills, trying to make sense of what just happened.

His cheeks grow warm. He scratches the back of his neck and heaves a deep sigh. Clarke turns her head to look at him. Like really look at him. She’s squinting her eyes - the thing she does when she's trying hard reading his mind.

Damn it.

_Dammit, Miller. Dammit, Raven. Dammit, this stupid game._

His face is burning up like the sun.

Clarke stares at him. "Is that true?"  

He swallows but quickly recovers, pressing his lips together.

_Being a man whose life is devoted to words, and he can’t put together the three most important ones._

And then, he recognises that hopeful glint in Clarke's eyes and sees the tiny curve in her mouth, which ... It's a good sign.

So he does that admittedly stupid thing with his mouth that he hopes is coming across more like his trademark crooked, shy smile and less like a sneer. He's not aiming to creep her out. Just the opposite.

"Yeah," he croaks, "for real."

+

They lose in the end.

He was ... No, he _is_ a teensy bit distracted. His mind is racing, going over everything in his head.

They didn't talk when the game ended, he left the room with the lamest excuse ever: " _I’m going to refill the snack bowl"_ (true) and " _I’m getting some water_ _because I’m thirsty"_ (not the full truth).

To be completely honest, he’s not okay. He's not. They’ve lost. He never loses in charades. And there's also the fact of his feelings for Clarke. _She knows._ He needs a moment for himself to figure this out.

+

He’s is sulking in the kitchen when Clarke finds him, playfully bumping her hips against his and hopping on the barstool closest to him.

"If you think about it," she starts, "it's not a total failure."

"Hmmm," he says, grim. "You think?"

She regards him.

"Yeah." She scoots closer and drags the barstool with her. He wants to scold her for scratching the tiles but thinks better of it. _It’s really not the time_.

"You got the girl.”

It's a statement.

 _Huh_.

“Right?"

He snorts and shakes his head, with a relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Looks like it." He steps in closer and brushes his thumbs against her cheeks. Now that he can.

She closes her eyes and leans into his touch. “Bellamy, stop stalling. I really wanna kiss you.”

He huffs out a breath. “Hey,” brushing his nose against hers. “Before _that_.... Do you …. do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

She smiles.

“Alright.”

+

Clarke stays when the rest of their friends leave. They end up sleeping together, tangled in his bed, completely dressed.

(He wants to do this one thing right.)

+

Monday he’s still eight minutes late from work. (As explanations go, sporting a hickey high up on his neck doesn't help.)

^^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know it might be confusing around the game but I left it deliberately vague.  
> If you have any questions, do ask. Please? You know where to find me. ;-)
> 
> (There’s a quote from a 90’s movie in this which I just watched the other day, and that silly quote stuck with me. It just fit my story perfectly. Bonus points if you can guess which quote and which movie.)


	4. “This isn’t my kitchen, is it?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on [ tumblr.](http://the-fat-mermaid.tumblr.com/post/158310134383/this-isnt-my-kitchen-is-it#tumblr_notes)
> 
> Based on the prompt: **38\. “This isn’t my kitchen, is it?”** from [ this post.](http://the-fat-mermaid.tumblr.com/post/157973346846/100-dialogue-prompts-part-3#tumblr_notes)

At first, she thinks she’s left the TV on in the living room. It wouldn’t be the first. It mostly happens when she’s too tired or too lost in her thoughts before going to bed. But the noise is solid, like a humming; so it is quite possible that  _maybe_  the fridge is living his own life again. That wouldn’t be a first either. Perceval is not exactly new.

But no. She can also hear pans clapping together so it has to be the TV. See, ever since they are on good terms with her neighbour,  _Food Network_  is her favourite. He suggested it, which she dismissed at first, but well… She refused because he made a stupid comment once when her smoke detector went off and the firemen vacated the building. But, it’s been months. It’s history.

Frankly,  _Food Network_  is her go-to channel before going to bed. Or when she has a particularly bad day. Watching how the star chef of the month is turning a few raw ingredients into something delicious is just… relaxing. As an upside, her cooking skills (and affinity to cook) has significantly improved. Months later, she willingly invites  _“the”_  neighbour and her friends for the themed dinner parties she regularly hosts.

But then she hears a curse word and a loud bang, and the noise shakes her out of her reverie, prompting her to jump out of bed. She grabs for her trusted baseball bat from under a pile of clothes. It’s made of hardwood, with a soft baby blue tape grip. The baseball bat is a leftover from the times Raven had dated a guy (then dumped within a week) for being generally too controlling. So she knows well how to intimidate; technically she also knows how to swing it.

She tiptoes to the door, her fingers curling around the knob and slowly, very slowly she slips out to the living room.

He’s standing there in a pair of slacks and a white top which is showing off way too much arms. Nothing she hasn’t seen before, but it had been a hot summer night a month ago when they hosted a barbeque for a small circle of friends. So. So – she is not complaining but the view of him is so domestic that she has to pinch herself to make sure it’s not just a dream.

“Bellamy?” her voice is a little raspy with sleep still and there is a quasi-intruder in her apartment whom she was prepared to kick in the nuts first and ask questions later.

“Oh shit,” he mumbles, visibly deflating a bit. “This isn’t my kitchen, is it?”

She can’t help the smile that stretches across her face, or her teeth biting on her bottom lip.

So when she gave Bellamy, her super built and super hot and super adorable neighbour a spare key, - after they’d been over the initial rocky phase of their relationship - she didn’t know that he would keep said key on his keychain twenty-four seven. (Or that he’d do late surprise visits to her apartment.)

Okay, their apartments are right next to each other. Same sturdy, dark oak door and doorframe gracing the entrance. They even own identical white kitchen furniture. (Which is completely by accident.)

It’s no wonder he didn’t recognise that he had entered the wrong apartment.

He’s a frequent guest in her kitchen during the daylight - being the better cook and a great person/friend to spend time with. And if she dreams of snuggling into him, who can blame her?

The view of him, in her apartment, is really not that unusual lately. And seeing him dressed like that, standing at the stove, in the middle of the night, is - quite honestly - rather comforting.

She sighs.

Maybe she should think about the reasons behind this feeling, but it’s not the right time for groundbreaking revelations.

“Shit Clarke, just … Just let me clean this up and I’m out.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” she says as she walks closer to him. Since she’s already up, she can keep him company. It’s only polite. “You need nutrition. And by that I mean proper food.” She opens the cupboard for a bowl. “Since I am already up, and a great host, I can help you.”

He ducks his head bashfully, but not before she can catch a small smile blooming on his face as turns his attention back to the eggs he’s already lined up on the countertop.

She hands him a small bowl and a fork.

Truth is, he’s reorganised her pans and plates and kitchen supplies the way  _he_  thinks is the most practical for cooking. At the time, she made a fuss about it because it’s  _her_  kitchen and in her kitchen  _her_  rules should apply, but. In reality, she really doesn’t mind. Raven thinks it’s a sign.

_Mark my words, Griffin, you are gonna marry this guy_ , she had said.

At the time she had thought it had been just a passing joke, because – well, Raven is always like that. She teases. She wanted to marry her to her ex, and see how that turned out.

But months later, and her teasing remarks hasn’t ebbed but intensified.

_Promise me, Griffin, you are going to kiss him_ , she said just yesterday, planting her hands on Clarke’s shoulders with a firm grip.

She hasn’t kissed him, not yet, but he hasn’t tried to kiss her either; despite that she feels that he might. Maybe not tonight, but someday he might.

_Enough_.

She clears her throat.

“You’re overworking yourself,” she adds. “You finished later tonight than you normally do on Wednesdays.”

He makes a funny face, one that she adores, but maybe it’s just her imagination. It  _is_  late and she’s not completely sobered up from sleep yet.

* * *

 

They chat as he cooks and it’s well after 2 am when they finish cleaning the dishes and he’s ready to leave.

Sadly, he put on his t-shirt sometime between switching the stove off and piling his omelette on a plate. It’s an odd thing to remember but again, she’s not going to analyse it right now.

He turns to look at her standing in the doorway, keys dangling in one hand, and the shy smile he gives her causes her heart to swell a little more.

“Thanks for not kicking me out, Clarke.”

Bellamy looking at her like that reminds her how much she actually likes him. Stupid amounts.

“See you on Friday, Bell,” she says, lips curling into a smile.

He kisses her temple before he leaves and the feel of his lips is just enough to make her dreams sweet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and comments are welcome.


	5. "PUT THE PUPPY DOWN"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: **77\. "PUT THE PUPPY DOWN ..."**

Bellamy gets a dog on a Wednesday. He doesn't  _ get one  _ per se, more like adopts one. Because, well.... stray, cute and orphaned animals and cute kids are his weakness. And when he hears the whimpering from behind a trash bin in the alley of the kindergarten he works at, he has no other choice but to take it in. Yes, it is a must.

The vet confirms the next morning that the puppy is healthy and that it belongs to no one. He considers leaving it there and let the vet find the puppy a real home, but then it yips and looks at him with those big sad eyes, so. Really, he has no other choice but to adopt it.

He names it Jasper and buys a blanket, toys, food, bowls, a leash and a collar for him.

Raven calls him  _ Fluffball _ , Clarke calls him  _ Mr Jordan _ because she knows him too well.

Everyone in his friend group knows about Jasper Jordan. But maybe Clarke is the one who knows all about it - how hard it was on him exactly to say goodbye. Jasper was a kid in Bellamy’s kindergarten class last year; an orphan, and quite possibly his favourite until he moved away with his new foster family.

He loves all his kids but Jasper was all smiles and fluffy hair and really cute with his toothless grin so it was not that hard to grow fond of him.

What matters is that Jasper was (is) a good kid and his foster family seemed to be nice, and Mr Vie wrote him a few times that they were doing fine… so he is not worried anymore. 

He has Jasper, the puppy, for over a month now when Clarke storms into his apartment.

"BELLAMY BLAKE!"

Bellamy’s sitting on his couch, in the middle of translating Dante’s  _ Inferno _ from Italian to Tagalog when Clarke surprises him.

She’s a welcome surprise most of the time. His life gets a little brighter every time she's around.

Jasper wags his tiny tail eagerly in greeting, yips and hops and runs a circle around Clarke before racing back to Bellamy, almost skidding on the floor. 

Jasper jumps on the couch, Bellamy’s work instantly forgotten when he reaches for the puppy to scratch that spot below his ears that he likes.

As he does so, he looks up at Clarke.

Her hair is a mess.

Her hair is always a mess, and he's kinda really into it (and into her) this way, but he has to admit that her trademark messy bun looks more messy than usual. Like she ran a marathon against the wind.

"What happened?" he asks, worry tainting his voice. He only stays seated because the puppy is rather content the way he's settled on his lap.

Clarke levels him with a look, which - quite honestly, is a little scary.

"PUT THE PUPPY DOWN AND FIGHT ME LIKE A MAN," she exclaims.

Jasper barks, and he hugs him tighter, more out of reflex, and Bellamy yelps in surprise. 

"What now?"

She gets rid of her coat as she steps in closer. Her lips are quivering, clearly on the verge of saying something more.

So he lets her.

But an excruciatingly long minute passes in silence and Clarke is still frozen in the exact same position.

"Clarke," he probes, careful.

Her eyes flick to his, drawing in a quick breath as she talks. "Did you, or did you not tell Finn Collins, my two-timer one-night stand Finn Collins that we are dating?"

_ Oh. About that - _

He has completely forgotten about that.

He knows (more like heard of) Finn Collins because of Raven - and of course he's heard of the  _ Collincident _ from Clarke - and when he met (totally by accident) said douchebag a year ago in his favourite coffee shop, and said douchebag had the wits to ask him about Clarke - and if she was dating anyone - of course Bellamy had said, "Actually... She is my girlfriend."

But it's been months ago... And, quite frankly, he didn't think much of it. Little did he know then that he would develop a massive thing for Clarke short after. He just wanted to help.   
  


 

"Ummmm, sorry?" He says, because ... One, he is kind of taken by surprise, and two, what more is there to say now not to sound too desperate. He doesn't feel bad for telling what he told Finn, but he feels guilty for not mentioning the thing to Clarke.

She huffs and crosses her arms right under her breasts. His eyes track the movement, the way the material of her shirt stretches accentuating the swell of her .... He shakes his head. He should really not get distracted now.

"Oh, you are sorry?" Clarke simply stares at him without saying anything more. There's a clear edge to her voice which he cannot yet decipher.

_ Shit _ .

Another long moment later she adds, "Sorry for not telling me, or...  sorry it's not true?" She sounds…. Not grumpy but kind of hopeful.

_ Oh. _

_ Oooohhhhh. _

He lets go of Jasper and jumps to his feet, practically crossing the room in one giant stride.

He's watching her for a bit before he nods to himself and pecks her on the cheek.

She laughs, which is a good start and a good sign he thinks.

She bites on her lips and smiles up at him.

Correction. He is sure. She likes him. She really likes him; like … LIKES HIM.

"Now kiss me like a man," but she doesn't wait any longer and grabs him by the collar, crushing her lips to his.   
Jasper yips and starts running in happy circles around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and if you leave a comment I'll love you forever.


	6. Call Me Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, Clarke won’t let Cage Wallace win this poll again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke are in an established relationship.
> 
> \+ Rating: not entirely G, but nothing explicit (more like hinting things)
> 
> \+ You have to have some knowledge about this e-online poll called Alpha Male Madness (because Bob Morley made it to the final round and he had to win obviously) and I am not really explaining things.
> 
> \+ I didn’t spend a lot of time proof-reading it, so apologies for any mistakes.

Clarke doesn’t remember all the little details that led them to this:  _Naked_  and panting and smiling like idiots. **  
**

Well, yeah. She does remember certain things.

 

  
Like how she huffed and grumbled in bed, just 2 hours ago, blinking herself awake. Until she remembered why she had gone to bed so late the night before. Or, as a matter of fact, the night before that.  
She sighed and reached for her phone.

“Oh my god, no,” she huffed to herself. “ _Nope_ , this is not happening.”

She turned sideways and pushed herself up on her elbows, refreshing the page. With that, she was back to the voting business.

“ _Clarke_.”

She might have been buried into her task for quite a while, judging the numb feeling in her elbows when Bellamy’s raspy voice had finally reached her tousled mind.  

He sneaked a warm, teasing hand around her, his palm resting on her stomach.

Under normal circumstances, she would have put the phone away and let him take his time with her until they were properly woken up.

At that moment, however, she acknowledged with a deep sigh, they really didn’t have time for that.  _Dammit_.

He slipped his fingers into her panties and –

“ _Bell_ ,” she whined in warning, yet already a little breathless. “We don’t have time for this  _now_. Please.”

He blew hot air into her skin, while nosing her ear, and rubbing a slow pattern with his fingers exactly how she likes it.

“You don’t understand,” she said, drawing in a deep breath, “I cannot let Cage win!!  _WE_  cannot let him win! He’s an asshole. Everyone knows that.”

“I bet his fans disagree,  _Clarke_ ,” he chuckled and slipped his fingers lower and deeper.

Clarke gasped. (And only partly out of indignation.)

“You know that Lincoln deserves to win this a trillion times more than Cage,  _Bellamy_ ,” she panted.

Without saying anything, Bellamy caught her earlobe between his teeth and simply hummed a sultry  _mhmmmm_  in agreement.

She yelped a corresponding cry, which was mostly meant as an encouragement – to signal him that it was indeed okay to intensify his efforts.

Later, when both of them are completely naked, catching their breath, she grabs her phone, swiping the lock screen away with her pinky for an update.

“Give me the damn phone, Clarke,” Bellamy nudges her sides with an elbow.

“What? No! You know we can’t let up, now, Bell. We are in the lead. Every vote matters and we can’t let that asshole win!”

“ _We_?” He asks with an amused smile.  
A beat. “Alright. Just give me the damn phone and show me.”

She grins, snuggling closer into his arms and starts explaining him the basic tricks.

* * *

“Holy shit!” she nearly moans, one hand tightening her grip in his hair, the other on her phone.

Bellamy peaks up at her, his chin a little shiny, his trademark, cunning smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeahhh,” she sighs and he ducks his head back in.

She leaves him gasping for air not so long after, her hair is a mess but Lincoln voters has also taken a bigger lead online.  

Nothing is impossible when she has Bellamy by her side. Best. Boyfriend. Ever.

“You wanna call our friends…  _Or_  – ready for the next round?” he teases, pressing his lips to her temple.  
She laughs, as she raises to puff the pillow. “Yeah, the more the merrier. Just give us another twenty minutes.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

* * *

Yeah. She is sure.  _Together_ , they can win this.

xx

 


	7. Puppy / Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumour says it Bob got another puppy!! 
> 
> You can say this is the continuation of the puppy fic (PUT THE PUPPY DOWN). Chapter 5 in this work.

Sometimes Bellamy Blake can hardly believe it’s been only a few months since Clarke had grabbed him by the collar and pulled his lips down to hers. He was taken by surprise, sure, and maybe it took him a long minute to kick-start his brain; but in that glorious moment, all he knew was that he was kissing Clarke, really kissing her.

* * *

He and Clarke have been dating for over two months now when the idea of moving together occurs to him. **  
**

He practically confessed he has been in love with her the day after she barged into his apartment.

Her lease is running out in a few months, and quite honestly, he is so in love with this girl… He’s probably gonna marry her in a year. If she says _yes_ , that is.

He’s looking for the gift-wrapping paper - with the Little Mermaid and Sebastian on it that he bought for special occasions like this - to wrap the tiny box with “the” key.

Well, she already has _a_ key, per se, but he gave it to her as a friend ages ago - when he had to get out of town for a few weeks and he needed someone to water his fern.

(Octavia, of course, made fun of him because _how do you still have that ugly ass fern, Bell_ , but truth is, he had gotten that fern that time they were in IKEA with Clarke and she said he needed a plant for oxygen and decor. And yeah, he is sentimental like that.)

So Clarke got that key as a friend at the time (for purely platonic reasons) and he never thought of asking her to return it. There is nothing platonic about them anymore, and well… He wants to be romantic this time.

He cuts a generous amount from the paper and folds it neatly around the box. Clarke has left some ribbons behind after an art project - and maybe he should have thought about buying a new deep blue ribbon with white polka dots but this will have to do. Clarke won’t mind.

But now that he thinks about it, Clarke has more and more stuff at his place, which is oddly comforting. He hasn’t paid that much attention to her stuff before, but - the thought of Clarke leaving her things behind - including hairpins and a comb and underwear and artsy throw pillows and whatnot - kind of makes him giddy.

So yeah, Clarke is getting “the” key - a new, symbolic, plastic key this time -, gift wrapped, and he is going to ask her to move in with him. Today. **  
**

(She, of course, points out to him later that she _already_ has a key but – their living arrangement is finally and _officially_ official, so he doesn’t argue like he normally would.)

“BELL! Are you _home_?” says Clarke as she enters the apartment, pulling him back to the present.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” he shouts and jumps to his feet, almost tripping on his way out.

Jasper must have woken from his late afternoon power nap because he is as energised as early in the morning.

This is his way of saying ‘get me out of the apartment’ for a walk. 

Well, Jasper has to wait now. He is not going anywhere before kissing his girlfriend hello and –

He exhales. It’s really silly to be nervous about this. There _is_ a slight chance Clarke might say it was too early in their relationship but he thinks she won’t. She _is_ in this with him for the long ride.

So he’s reaching out with a hand as soon as he reaches her, running a thumb along her cheek before diving in for a kiss.

“Hello,” Clarke breathes, smiling into their kiss and he is so ready to guide them to the couch to kiss her some more when he hears a muffled noise and breaks their kiss instead.

“Did you hear that?” he frowns.

“Bell, um – ” she reaches for his hand, drawing his attention back to hers.“ Um, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Jasper scratches the carpet with his paws and his crazy yipping suddenly makes more sense to him as Clarke holds up a tiny bundle of fur.

He stares in confusion. “It’s a puppy,” he manages at last.

“Yeah –” Clarke says, somewhat guilty.“ But before you say ‘no’, hear me out.” **  
**

And so she presents him with her case.

It’s not like he can say ‘no’ to stray, orphaned puppies. And it’s not like he can say ‘no’ to Clarke when she is all big, pleading blue eyes.

And he is not saying no to puppy Maya because Clarke, naturally, has already named her – and her case is rock solid, and _together_ they can handle two dogs.

So it is as good time as any to ask.

“I’ve got something for you, too” he starts, drumming his fingers against the box in his pocket.

Clarke lets go of Maya. Having her standing so close, and just having her so close and knowing there’s a good chance it will stay like this makes him smile. 

The puppy is shy at first, staying close to Clarke and only taking a few tentative steps, nuzzle on the ground. Jasper barks around her in greeting, scooting closer on his paws. They sniff around each other, more careful at first and then … it’s instant puppy love. **  
**

That settles it. Not that he had any doubts before. They are keeping her.

He clears his throat and a gives her the box.

She says yes to him after a round of 'we are moving in together’ sex.

And because he feels cheeky in his current sated state, he adds, “You have an awful lot of stuff here, anyway.”

She settles her chin on his chest, her fingers drawing circles across his skin.

“I thought you’d never ask,” is all she says, smiling coyly before pushing up on her palms and planting a kiss on his lips. His hands find her back on instinct, pulling her closer.

By the time they emerge from the bedroom, Jasper and Maya are settled down on the couch, snuggled together and fast asleep.

* * *

The fern makes it to their wedding reception a year later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

* * *

 

And some visuals:


	8. Scruffy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short post season 4 canon reunion scene. Only happened because I really want _Clarke do that_ and _say that_ and _Bellamy say that._

When the initial shock of seeing one another alive is over, they are inching their way closer with every heartbeat, until they can see every freckle and scar and fine line on their faces collected over the years spent apart. 

It’s a true miracle to stand here and together and so close.

Clarke places a palm on Bellamy’s face, wanting to feel his warmth on her skin once again - more of a reassurance to herself that he is indeed real and there, and not just something her mind has made up. Bellamy’s eyes flutter closed at the contact, as the tips of her fingers are tracing the curve of his cheekbone, thumb sliding down, feeling the scratch of his beard as it moves.

“You are _so_ scruffy,” Clarke finally settles on saying.

Bellamy huffs out a laugh in amusement and offers her one of his slow, crooked smiles. “Manners, _Princess_.”

Oh well, she did miss that smile, but she missed him so damn much more. So she smiles back.

xxx


	9. The Notebook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds Clarke's notebook. (canon drabble)

Bellamy doesn’t mean to snoop around. But when Clarke asks him to go and grab the box of spare bullets from under the driver’s seat of the rover, she didn’t say she was keeping her notebook there full of sketches.

Not _just_ sketches but sketches of him.

So when Madi comes to fetch him because “you are taking too long, old man” he stutters and, well, he needs another minute to process this. A lot of things, actually.

“ _Oh_ , I see you’ve found her diary,” Madi giggles.

Bellamy shakes his head, trying to control his breathing, back to normal, because honestly – w h a t?

“Her diary?”

Madi nods her head, her giggles slowly settling into a huge grin.

“It’s full of sketches of … _me_??” He doesn’t mean it as a question, but his heart is kinda beating high and fast in his throat now, his palms feel all sweaty. He clearly didn’t expect to see this. 

Does he really have so many freckles?

“It’s okay,” Madi explains.“ I’ve found it weird _at first_ to have a book full of the same _tall, dark and handsome_ but - - I understand.” She is kicking a stone with her boot, her eyes focusing on a patch of grass on the ground. “It was her way of not losing hope and to remember,” Madi mumbles before raising her head and flashing him a small smile again. “You were her favourite in the stories, you know.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow, he means to ask so many things.

“Hey, did you –” Clarke approaches, her eyes spotting the notebook, open, and in his hands.

He shrugs. “Tall, dark and handsome, _huh_?” His voice breaks a little in the middle, but he covers it with a smirk, all in all a little awkward. He thinks his eyes even twitch into an involuntary wink.

He is so out of his game after 6 long years in space, but, that’s what you get when living with couples for practically the entirety of it.

Before he can turn beet red, he notices the faint blush on Clarke’s cheeks. It’s adorable. (And she’s incredibly sexy. Motherhood made her mature so much… it’s unbelievable. She’s been born to this.)

“ _Ummm_ – yeah, about that–”

“You drew me?”

She cocks her head to the side. “Well, yeah. I wanted to remember you…”

“And you told Madi stories about me?” he closes the book and takes a step closer.

“ALL of you,” Clarke counters, she looks so stubborn – like the Clarke he’d met one day, long, long ago, when he thought she had been spoiled and privileged and he was going to rule camp alone.

“You told stories about me – _tall, dark and handsome,_ ” he grins.

Clarke, at the same time huffs, mumbling, “ _but of course_ that’s the one thing she remembers,” and turns her head to shoot a glare at Madi, who is nowhere to be seen.

He stifles a laugh at Madi’s antics.

“ _Clarke_ ,” he takes another step and grabs for her hand to squeeze it. “Let me do it right, _this time_.”

He means to say, he has missed her so much, it actually ached for years and he thought he would never really breathe right again. Not until a few weeks ago – not until he’s learnt from a small grounder child that she was alive. That he only feels almost whole again because she’s here, and he can actually _see her_ , for real, and touch her.

Instead, he tugs on her arm, enveloping her in a hug, thumbs rubbing at the nape of her neck, where her now shorter hair ends. He’s breathing her in, until he can feel her breathing even out, and in sync with his. “If I could, I would have drawn you. Every day.”

Clarke buries her head deeper into the crook of his neck which is awesome.

After a minute or so, he breaks the silence. “I could be pretty good at it by now, actually, if –”

“ _Bellamy,_ ” Clarke leans back to look at him,“ shut up. Let’s just enjoy this.”

If he could, he’d draw her every day, even now. But, let’s be real, nothing will ever compare to the real thing.   
  
***********************************************


	10. “There’s only one bed… ”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: **154\. “There’s only one bed… ”**
> 
> A bellarke modern au.

When Roan invited his friends to his mother’s brand new beach house for a weekend getaway, they didn’t think work would get in the way to head start in time. Or that they’d be stuck in the same car, together, on this dusty dirt road, when the downpour hit them.

Clarke was supposed to catch a train with Monty and Jasper, but then she got called in for a “catch up” with her boss which stretched longer than a coffee break. And when Bellamy told her she could join him “ _if the Princess is willing to wait an hour longer_ “ - until he drops a few books back at the library - she texted, _What are friends for?_ And grabbed her bag to meet him on the stairs leading up the entrance.

An hour easily grew into two, which - yeah she should have expected anyway.

When the storm hits, it makes no sense to venture any further, to be quite honest. So they park Bellamy’s beat up old car at the first motel with the "vacant” sign,  practically sprinting across the lot, and are soaking wet by the time they rush into the reception.

Bellamy, being the gentleman that he is, asks the receptionist for a room with a double. The old lady perks up from behind her desk, looking them over from head to toe. Then she goes back to slurp on her soda, with her eyes already back on the crossword splayed in front of her, as she is etching the final letter in big black blocks on the paper.

Clarke is freezing to her toes, when Bellamy moves closer and starts running his palms up and down her arms, using the friction to warm her up (as if!). By the time the old lady hands them the key, Clarke is pleasantly flushed.

“Huh,” Bellamy scoffs, as the lights flicker to life.

“What is –” Clarke stops mid-sentence, taking the final step into the room.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Well, technically … It’s a double,” she moves closer, wrenching the covers off the beds. “The beds are just … Kinda stuck together in the middle.”

Bellamy heaves a deep sigh. “Alright. I can go back and demand another room.”

“Demand?” She raises an eyebrow.“ I’m not afraid of the cooties, _Blake_.”

“If you say so,” Bellamy shrugs, but she catches him smiling as he moves around.

“It’s okay, _Bell_. _Princess_ is tired and going to sleep in this room –”

“– since when do you refer to yourself in third person, huh?” He bumps his elbow to hers, his smile is still radiating around his lips. (Honest to god, his earnest smiles like this never fail to warm her heart.)

The first thing she learns about Bellamy Blake that night that he is emanating heat like no one else. And it’s only disturbing because his heat feels like a magnet, and she wants to leech on it and never let go.

Bellamy falls asleep before her, his curly hair sticking to his face where his head hits the pillow. His soft snores, surprisingly, are not disturbing at all; more like a calming lullaby to her ears after a tiring day.

The last thing she learns about him before she finally lulls to sleep, that his palms are big and heavy and warm, as he cuddles her closer to him.

Hey, maybe it’s a once in a lifetime experience, so she scoots closer and lets him.

 

**

 

The morning should be awkward, maybe, because they are still tangled together on the bed when she wakes, facing each other.

Bellamy is blinking his eyes open and Clarke lets her fingers trace the freckles on his cheeks. His hot breath tickles her palm first.

 

**

 

It’s well past lunchtime when they arrive at the beach house. Well – Clarke swears they could have made it hours earlier _if only Bellamy had let her use the GPS on her phone_ , but he was being way too stubborn. Like a mule.

(But no. Bellamy argued, “ _we are too dependent on technology, Clarke_.” And that “ _one day you’ll get lost in the woods, and then what? How you gonna google for help?”_ She grinned and popped a quick peck on his cheek. “ _Your number is the top one in my favourites!_ ”)

When they arrive at Roan’s, a housewarming party is already in full swing.

It’s only a bit after midnight when Roan leads them to the last guest room on the left.

He flicks on the light with his thumb, and turns to face them as he leaves, only to mutter, “ _Oh no_ , there’s only one bed…”

Suffice to say, the expression on his face is resembling a big fat smirk and not worry at all.

Clarke hides her smile in Bellamy’s shoulder, before grabbing him by the hand and tugs him towards the bed. “Oh no, indeed,” she sniggers.

Bellamy purses his lips in contemplation, and a full long minute passes before he lets out a sigh and says, dead serious, “Dibs on the left.”

“Alright, old man, but just because you’re my favourite.”

 

**

 

Raven a snaps a photo of them the next morning – when she marches in the room to announce breakfast is ready and gonna get cold if they don’t hurry – and finds them kissing sloppily in bed.

 

 

## @wildlittlebirrrd SHARING IS CARING. #bellarke it’s happening

Reyes tagged BigBlake in the photo.

Reyes tagged MissCGriffin in the photo.

icepecks and 48 others liked wildlittlebirrrd’s photo.

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. In my head, they are caught kissing, that's all.
> 
> Dialogues are not my forte, so trying to do more of these.


	11. the proof of the pudding is in the eating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble. Canon divergent. Post season 4. Future fic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when a word or a sentence speaks to you? I saw this prompt and it didn't leave me alone. (Giving titles is hard.)
> 
> I was thinking, that this could have fit easily into [_I find I'm lost without you_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12053889/chapters/27295734) but for whatever reason, I don't feel it 100% fitting into that verse.

Six months into their new life on the New Ark, Murphy gets the stomach flu. **  
**

There is no logical explanation for it, given they are stranded in space and no one else gets it and they don’t even have a trained medic to determine whatever it is. But Emori’s been on the run practically her whole life, and she swears “ _it is most definitely a stomach bug_ ”.

“Bellamy,” Murphy clutches his abdomen, tight, sweat covering his temples and lips, as a loud gurgling noise ripples through him.

Honestly, it makes his stomach turn just by listening to it.

Murphy’s gritting his teeth together so strong that Bellamy thinks he’s going to lose a tooth if he doesn’t let up. But his groans eventually turn into soft pants, and Murphy schools his features into something more human-like.

“I don’t think I can cook tonight –”

“– Cook? If you think I’m gonna let you anywhere near the food, you are out of your mind.”

His voice has that old commanding tilt to it, but up here, everyone has accepted him as a leader.

No one really wants to be a leader. It’s a burden no one else is prepared to bear.

Emori slips into the room and changes the wet cloth on Murphy’s forehead, pushing him back down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure he stays put,” is all she says, and her eyes are back on her lover in an instant, effectively dismissing Bellamy.

Bellamy shakes his head, releasing a heavy sigh as he turns, and finds himself quickening his steps, down the hallway, in the direction of the farms.

“Monty!” Bellamy shouts, spotting Monty on the corridor, carrying a few crates. “I need you in the kitchen this week.”

“Can’t-do, Captain,” Monty chippers, stopping only for a minute to readjust the crate on the top before it topples down to the floor.

 _Captain?_ That’s something to talk about at another time.

“Why’s that?” Bellamy grunts.

“It’s harvest. And to be quite honest, I could use a hand.”

“We’re one man short. Murphy’s out sick for a while,” he blows out a breath. “Use Echo,” he finally says. Echo is spending way too much time with Raven anyway. Just because he’s in a perpetual sour mood, it doesn’t mean he has not noticed things. It’s cute, and he is glad that his people are finding some sort of balance already, but Echo spending her time 24/7 with Raven is also slowing things down right now, and… He shakes his head again. “I’ll figure it out.”

Whatever. He’s not their Dad. It’s only about a few days, anyway. As a grown man, he can handle this.

And that’s how Bellamy ends up at the stove, attempting to cook.

Harper, as always, sets the table, leaving the spots Murphy and Emori usually take empty. It’s considerate of her. Emori has hardly left Murphy’s side ever since he was puking his guts out for the second time in an hour.

“Well, dig in,” he signals with the spoon in his hand.

He is so focused on the small smile Harper gives Monty every time they sit together at the end of a day, or the ever-increasing teasing glances between Raven and Echo, that he completely gets lost in staring into nothing.

Raven coughs.

He shakes himself out of this stupor and chances a glance around the table.

Monty looks like someone choking on his tongue.

“Oh, my God,” Harper says, raising a hand to her mouth as though to smother the sound.

Bellamy is about to lift the spoon when Echo spits on her plate, and with a loud scraping sound, she pushes her chair backwards, extricating herself from the table.

“Someone’s gotta say this,“ she heaves and has already taken up a defensive warrior pose, her back rod straight like an arrow. ” _This tastes horrible_.“

Raven is the first to snort.

Bellamy lifts his spoon closer, sniffing it.

It does not seem so horrible to him; the consistency looks disgusting, sure, but almost everything does up here. It’s not like the stuff Murphy comes up with looks that much appetizing either.

But taking in all the faces around him, makes him wonder. He pokes the tip of his tongue through his teeth, probing at the spoon first, before licking it.

He wishes he hasn’t.

One look at his twisted face, and Raven begins laughing.

The others are soon to follow and after an agonizing, long minute, he lets himself swallow a couple of times to wash the taste away and he finds himself joining them.

A bunch of hungry kids, continuously fighting for survival, and their laughter echoes through the empty hallways. (Murphy was out cold sleeping but Emori asks them about it later.)

 

It’s not until later that night, preparing to bed when he lets himself blow out a long, staggering breath.

It’s been months – very long months – since he genuinely laughed, let alone let himself smile. He has almost forgotten what the feeling is like.

He doesn’t think he can smile a lot in the years to come but he’s far from feeling too guilty about it right now. Of course, that’s the moment the deepest parts of his mind bring up the brightest smile he’s ever seen on a face in his life.

Her face. Her smile. Her laugh. Her sound. _Her_ everything.

He blows out the air stuck in his lungs and lets himself linger on the memory – on the feeling of weightlessness – and a minuscule smile begins tugging at his lips, as his breathing evens out, and he slowly falls asleep.

One day at a time.

Maybe one day, he is able to bring up the memory without this heavy burning feeling in his chest. To be quite honest, he’s not sure he wants that day ever to come.

 

***

 

Murphy recovers in four days and Bellamy is not allowed near the kitchen again.

***********************************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: **116\. “This tastes horrible.”**


	12. Rome wasn’t built in a day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: 108. “Are you hitting on me?” + bellarke

It is truly the biggest miracle ever that Bellamy hasn't caught up to her feelings yet. And if it weren't for Raven and Murphy persisting – _swearing_ to hell and heavens - that Bellamy _indeed_ does have a major crush on her but is too oblivious to notice that those feelings are mutual – she would have stayed at home tonight. To think. To strategize. To mope.

Because there really is no way Bellamy could be this oblivious to her moves. She's practically touching his arms and hands, and even his shoulders, every possible occasion she can get. It's not like they haven't touched before, but. Definitely not this much, and definitely not all the time.

Or the tops. It's freaking freezing outside but she's been wearing these low cut tops in the hopes of Bellamy, maybe, _finally_ having had enough of stimulation and would just shove her against the wall in a moment of weakness to express his undying love. Or something.

But, no such luck.

The man is acting like a piece of wood. Is she really stuck in the friend zone forever??

"Nah," Raven snorts. "Believe me –" Clarke sighs. She has heard way too many times and way too many speeches starting just like this: _'Believe me -' '- he likes you too'. 'Believe me, he is just oblivious.’ 'Believe me, he wants to take you against the wall.'_ If only.

Maybe she really needs to buy that one lace top she's been eyeing online. It's cute. And sexy. Sexy is good, right?

She exhales, shaking her head.

"No, Raven. This is clearly not working. I am tired. And after trying for months for him to notice me as a _romantic prospect_ –" she opens her mouth to say something less whiny, but she needs to let this out,"– I am frustrated."

Raven smiles. "You don't say .... " knocking her knees against hers.

"I am serious."

"Oh, I know you are." Raven cocks her head, seemingly thinking it over. "Maybe, you should just let up on him for a bit. I think... I think he's just too distracted by the rerun of _Rome_ on TV. You know how he can get about that stuff."

Oh yeah, she smiles, Bellamy finds some weird satisfaction in re-watching historically inaccurate media. Most of their friends cannot stomach it for too long; she's the only one who finds it cute. But her smiles soon fade away when she remembers  _why_ they are having this talk in the first place.

"Are you telling me -- that I freezing my ass off was for nothing because he hasn’t noticed a thing?"

"Oh, he noticed you alright," Raven is smirking at her. "The man is not made of stone. He just hasn't noticed that all _this_ ," drawing a circle in the air around her cleavage, "was for him."

Clarke scoffs. That's just ridiculous.

"Anyway. I'm sitting this one out. Just say that I'm --- busy. Or something."

 

***

 

She is halfway through sulking into her second beer when her phone dings with the incoming texts. It's from Raven.

_B is asking abt u_

_And im p sure hes jealous_

Clarke rolls her eyes. Sure, jealous.

**me**

_Humor me_

**Raven**

_Im serious. Hes all itchy. And keeps looking at the entrance like some grumpy wizard_

**me**

_That doesn't prove anything_

 

***

 

She ditches them again next Wednesday. It's not planned or anything and honest to god she misses her friends and she misses him. But with the extra workload at work towards the year-end, she is too tired to put on some decent clothes again after her shower.

Her phone buzzes.

**John Murphy**

_Griffin, do me a favour and don't ditch on us again._

_Blake is INSUFFERABLE_

She just hit the Start button on the dishwasher with a week’s worth of dirty dishes when her phone buzzes again.

**Bellamy**

_Hey, Clarke, what's up? Haven’t seen you in ages._

_Are you avoiding me?_

She scowls at the texts. In essence, he’s just being the good friend. But those texts still irk her, because – because _if only he would notice her like that_.

She starts to type _YES. And I'm desperately in love with you but you don't want to notice me_.

She deletes it.

_You know. Work and stuff. Mostly work. Im busy._

_Hopefully next week._

**John Murphy**

_Istg Griffin you better make it next time. He is a mean grump._

 

***

 

Raven storms into her apartment next week, with Murphy in tow.

Raven heads straight to her room.

Murphy flops down on the couch, next to her, resting his feet on the tiny coffee table and pulls her into a one arm hug.

"So. I've been thinking. I could help you out with this ' _seducing Blake'_ agenda."

She crosses her arms under her chest, and it takes a lot out of her not to start another rant on the topic. "It's on hold." She huffs.

Murphy hums, annoyingly so, before turning to look at her.

"Just hear me out." He waits for her to turn and face him, she knows him, but _nah,_ that's not happening. Murphy is a good friend, but his ideas are usually too dirty or too extreme for her taste. She hears him huff in annoyance, before taking a careful breath, removing his hands from around her shoulders. "We _could_ make out. _Platonically,_ of course." And he has the audacity to grin at her.

 _Ewwww_. "No," kicking his legs off the table. "No offence, but I'm not _that_ desperate."

Murphy smirks wider at her, repositioning his legs on the table.

"And I'm revoking your rights to a key to my apartment," her eyes are narrowing on his feet. He chuckles and settles deeper into her couch. He is damn lucky she considers him her friend.

"Whatever, the offer is on the table."

Raven reappears and throws her new lacy top at her head with a curt nod, "This one."

"No," says Clarke and kicks Murphy's legs off her table again.

She agrees to join them in the bar that night but opts to wear a different top, something less ... revealing. The plan is on hold. Indefinite. What she knows is this: she needs a new plan on wooing Bellamy. A much better one.

They are the last to arrive. Everyone is there, sitting around their usual table: Monty, Harper, Riley and surprisingly even Octavia has shown up with her mysterious new girlfriend, Niylah.

And great, Bellamy is wearing his stupid tan shirt – the one with the short sleeves, the sleeves he rolls up his biceps a bit in a way that makes him even more attractive. And all that skin on display is nothing compared to his smile. Because he beams up like a Christmas tree when he spots _her_ and pulls up a chair right next to him, signalling her to take it.

 _Great_. But well, he is her friend. And her silly frustration shouldn't affect that.

Two hours later, most of their group decided to play a round of pool in the back, so that leaves her and Bellamy alone.

He is acting a little weird. It's hard to tell, though; he is really not doing anything special and anything different but somehow, she is just more aware of him.

His arms are _just there_ on display, muscles stretching tauter when he leans on the table to lean in closer and explains his stories for her. And if she thinks about it, he has been brushing up against her quite a lot tonight.

If she didn't know better, she would think that --- _huh_.

So maybe it's the last beer that makes her say it.

"Are you hitting on me?" She asks, mouth agape.

Bellamy ducks his head, catching his bottom lip between his teeth."Depends," he murmurs. "Is it working?"

_Son of a ...._

"You cannot be serious! I've been trying to make you jump me for weeks. _For weeks, Bellamy._ And you're telling me you haven't noticed any of that?!"

His blush is an ear to ear grin now.

"Oh, I noticed. But -- in my defence, I thought you were hitting on Riley."

"On _Riley_ ?!" She huffs. _Why_ would he think that???

 _Unbelievable_.

" _Why_ would I hit on Riley?"

He ducks his head again. "It's stupid.”

She nudges her foot to his and makes a small irritated noise.

“You started to wear all those tiny tops and brushing up against me around the time Riley joined the group and -- and I thought you were trying to make _him_ jealous. I was just, _ummm_ \--- "he takes a deep breath, practically rushing through the rest. "I was just trying to be a good wingman."

She laughs.

"Bellamy Blake, I swear to god..." And she doesn't have time to finish because he leans in and kisses her.

She kisses him back.

 

***

 

A week later, they are back at the bar, she's wearing her new top, and Bellamy is playfully shoving her to the wall in that alcove in the back. A hot palm is sliding down her throat, only resting on her collarbone. " _Clarke_ ," his breath is hot in her ear, then on her neck, making her shiver. "You are driving me crazy."

Her fingers find their way to his hair, tugging on his curls slightly, holding tighter onto him. "Good," she breathes, "just what I was aiming for. Money well spent."

"It's not just the top," he pecks her on the lips and retires, leaving her to chase after his lips. "I'm serious. You have to _know_ this," and it seems like he's struggling for words for a bit until his eyes find hers and those brown eyes turn unbelievably soft. It knocks the breath out of her. "It's _you_."

She smiles back at him. "I know."

 

Murphy finds them like that, they are still attached at the lips.

He clears his throat. "So, I take it you don't need my help after all."

When they return to their table she flicks a crumpled napkin at him.

“He deserved that.”

Bellamy takes her hand, brushing his thumb against her skin, “Oh, I have no doubts about that.”

 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments and cute bellarke headcanons are always welcome!


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